Sin
by plumbloom
Summary: With the sacrifice of Hohenheim, Al finally regains his body, but his soul is not the only one within it. oneshot, cut from "Aether", rating for mild Elricest.


A/N: This oneshot is actually part of a longer work I have in progress ("Aether", which can be found on my profile page) but I have tweaked it around a bit so that it also can be read independently. Originally I intended only to write this oneshot, but it ended up spawning the larger crossover project.

***

"_To wash oneself clean of one sin that was so permeated with sacrilege, one must commit another. In the end, the two would cancel each other out, as if neither had ever existed. One must merge one form of darkness with another with another, and then wait for the darkness to be tinged with the rosiness of the fateful dawn to come."_

"What's going on?" Al – was it Al? – spun himself in lopsided circles, emitting a high-pitched screaming and clawing at his eyes. The armor had crumpled in a heap on the floor. All that remained of Hoenheim was a dark splotch, obscuring the intricate lines of the overlapped transmutation circles. Al fell upon it, seething, pounding the floor, as Ed dragged himself nearer to his brother. "Al! Al!"

Suddenly he was grasped under the arms by Izumi and pulled up, flipped over. "It's not Al," she said hoarsely. "I have to stop it before it destroys itself. It'll break its own bones, at this rate..."

Ed's eyes flicked back and forth between his own twisted, blackened automail leg and Al – Al's body – it – which now pounded its head on the floor. "What are you saying?? That's Al!"

"That's Al's body. Winry! Get over here. Bind up his leg. It's not his soul."

The pain increased, and Ed felt as if he might pass out. "No – no. His soul – Al –"

Their master regarded him with something like pity, fighting back her own emotion. "I won't destroy it. I'll restrain it. Don't worry." Winry came into his sphere of vision and Izumi vanished abruptly. Winry's eyes were bright with tears, but her face was stony as she clamped down on his leg. He let out a brief scream as his body shuddered with pain, the exposed nerves running through the mutilated automail writhing with the sensation.

Suddenly – almost simultaneously – the horrid screeching of the creature with Al's body ceased. Ed rolled his face to the side, trying through to see through the blood slowly trickling into his eyes. Izumi had halted her advance, taken aback. The grotesquely thin form of Al's body had ceased the violence against itself. It stared at him blankly. Then, a shift in the eyes, and forced, struggling: "Nii-san...you're hurt."

The feeling of being stabbed through the chest, a shock of joy even more painful than the gaping mess where automail had used to be, sucked the air out of Ed's lungs. When he recovered his breath, desperately trying to make himself heard, he shouted: "It's him! It's Alphonse! Al!" But as he watched, Al's expression slowly contorted, and he threw his head back and screamed again, sinking his fingers into the thin flesh of his cheeks. "Alphonse!"

This spectre haunted him as he slowly lost consciousness.

***

When he awoke, Ed at first remembered nothing. As he took in his surroundings – room, curtains half-drawn, light of a midwinter day, dull pain in his leg, restlessness in the rest of his limbs – he began to remember. When he turned his head to the side, Izumi was sitting there quietly, regarding him. Before he could open his mouth to speak, she said:

"Al is fine. You've been asleep about a week. Mostly stress from the transmutation. You lost your automail, and almost lost the nerves connected to it, as well. Winry's been working on a replacement leg. We've called Doctor Zhou to take care of you both. Your father...as predicted, did not survive."

Ed nodded. It was exactly like her to dispense all of the necessary information without regard for his fuzzy state of consciousness. He struggled to recall more from the night of the transmutation. "Al...you said something about Al not being himself."

This gave Izumi some pause. She seemed to be sifting through her thoughts. "It seems that when Al's soul pulled his body back through the gate, it was not only his body which came through."

He absorbed the information. "Are you saying...his body is possessed?"

It was a possibility that had been considered, however briefly. Ed closed his eyes, overwhelmed.

_While Hoenheim had pleaded, Ed had remained stone-faced, arms crossed over his chest. Al, head in hands and expression, as usual, unreadable through the armor, did not say anything either. Their father appealed to them, hands spread wide. Izumi was with them, too, though she had offered nothing thus far. It was in the wake of having driven Father and his creations from Amestris, stripping the military bare of schemers. Their victory had been stained with the devastation of Father's second plan – using Ishbal, he had brought half of the Gate into physical being. There was nothing to be done; nothing they had thought of, yet. Hoenheim's appearance was met with rage from Ed, but Al convinced him to listen. And he threw himself upon their mercy:_

"_They sought me out. They used me to bring the Gate forth. Though it is not through my own will, the responsibility for the death of two countries is something I cannot bear. Please." His eyes were dry, but his voice sounded as if he were sobbing. "I want to use this sinful body for the good of my children."_

_They needed no more, Hoenheim explained, a price to pry open the Gate as it stood half-open, already leaking into the world, and pulling things of the world into it. He himself would serve as the price for Al's body. Hysterical, Al immediately refused. In the end, it was Izumi, not Ed, who had convinced him to reconsider his father's proposition. The four of them worked on the theory and transmutation circles, and when it was finally ready, she secured for them a ramshackle cabin near the borderline of Ishbal._

Now, Izumi shrugged, neither her face nor her voice betraying her real emotions. "A body staying that long in the Gate...it had to do something to survive. But it would be wrong to assume that there's another person in there with Al. They're fragments, shattered pieces of other souls, mangled and twisted. Together, they have joined to survive off of Al's body, like a virus, or a parasite. With the inhabiting of another soul, they would be ejected, and sent back into the nothingness of the Gate. Al's soul is fighting desperately to stay in his body, and he's giving it his best. His soul is strong – you, and he, ensured that. But his body is dangerously weak. It's possible that it could die on the battlefield."

Ed shook his head as the truth sunk in. "I want to see him. I need to see him. Please -"

Izumi glanced over at Doctor Zhou, who had noiselessly entered some time before and was making notes on a chart. He made a helpless expression. "I don't see the harm, as long as he doesn't do it on his own steam. If we don't comply, he'll find his own way there. Besides, it might do well for Al to see him."

"Fine. Make the necessary preparations." When the doctor left, Izumi turned to Ed. "Should I call Winry? She'll be glad to know you're awake, at least."

"No." Ed felt a rising impatience. "Later. Where is that damn doctor?"

"Here. I had to get a few things we need for Al, too." With the somewhat rough assistance of Izumi, they managed to get Ed into the wheelchair. As Izumi wheeled him through the corridor, and the two of them lifted the chair to manipulate it down a flight of stairs, the doctor cautioned, "You must not be alarmed. His condition is stable, for now. Above all, you must remain quiet and calm, or you will agitate him."

This only served to make Ed more anxious. When they finally reached the door – it seemed they had him in one of the ground floor rooms – Zhou pulled a set of key out of his pocket and undid several locks. It looked as if they had been newly installed. Zhou went in first, turning on a low light and going over to a dresser, where he began unpacking the small satchel of implements he had brought. Ed strained to see into the relative darkness of the room as Izumi wheeled him inside. When his eyes finally adjusted, he swore softly, his chest clenching. "What are you _doing_ to him?"

Al lay on the bed, which also seemed newly modified, both of his arms and legs restrained to the sides by means of thick cloth manacles. He was hooked up to several IVs and a softly beeping machine which seemed to be monitoring his heart rate. The bedclothes and nightgown were dingy, and the whole room stank of medicine, blood, and sweat. His hair was a matted, clumped mess around his head, which was slumped to the side, but his eyes, half-open, glinted dully at Ed in the low light. Ed suppressed various urges to scream, to throw himself out of his wheelchair, to weep. Izumi laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, which he permitted, despite himself. "Why is he like this?"

Zhou was now checking the machine and IVs. "If we don't keep him restrained, he inflicts massive harm upon himself. Even restrained, he refuses food, bites his lips, tries to choke himself by ingesting his hair. This way, we've been able to have him gain a few pounds, and I was able to heal most of his wounds."

Ed struggled to wheel himself closer. Izumi seemed to hesitate, and then helped him to the side of the bed opposite of the doctor.

Al. It had been so long since he had been this close to his brother - all of his brother, body and soul. Even dirty, skeletal, his wrists marked red and raw from the restraints, he was recognizable. Ed felt the weight of the years spent searching for this exact moment press upon him. He closed his eyes, willing himself not to reach out and grasp his brother's hand, aching because he could not.

A few minutes passed while Ed sat in his brother's presence. A small noise finally prompted him to lift his bowed head and, with difficulty, take his eyes off of Al. Zhou nodded at him and lifted a pair of scissors. "I'm going to cut his hair in case he wakes up again."

Impulsively, Ed reached out his flesh hand. "Can I – ?"

"Oh. Yes, alright. Be careful, though. No quick movements or loud noises. Don't touch him more than you have to – it will wake him." The doctor passed over the scissors and returned to refilling the IV bags.

Ed was barely aware of his master leaning over him as he reached over and picked up a clump of Al's hair off the rank pillow. It was only a couple of shades darker than his own, but now made even more so with sweat and filth. _Al – I wonder how you would like it, after all these years._ Gently he passed the scissors through it. He repeated the motion, getting somewhat lost in the hypnotic procedure. The tips of his fingers brushed Al's cheekbone and he winced at how sharp it felt, at the same time feeling an indescribable elation. _Bone of my bone..._

So absorbed was he that he heard Izumi's slow intake of breath before he noticed that Al's eyes were now fully open, and fixed upon him. Ed froze, his eyes flickering to the scissors, desperately trying to think of how he would draw them away without provoking whatever-it-was in Al's body any further.

But Al gave a drawn smile that disarmed Ed completely. A harsh whisper escaped the chapped lips. "Nii-san..."

Ed felt his alarm crumble. "Al..."

A sort of film seemed to slide over Al's eyes. His smile widened, becoming frighteningly toothy. In a completely different voice, he snarled, "I'll kill you!"

Before Ed could react, he threw his face to the side, burying the tip of the scissors in his skull.

It seemed as if both Izumi and Doctor Zhou moved at once. Izumi pushed Ed to the side and grasped Al's head firmly between her hands, while the doctor struggled for a syringe. Al was howling and tossing as much as his restraints allowed. When Zhou came back to Al's bedside with the needle, Ed shouted, "Wait!"

Somehow he managed to make himself heard. Al abruptly ceased struggling and lay quiet, though his face was still contorted, and saliva gathered in the corners of his mouth. The scissors had been dislodged by his convulsions, and blood seeped out between Izumi's fingers, her hand clamped over the small wound. Using the blood, she traced a transmutation circle on Al's skull and healed it shut. Meanwhile Ed, with difficulty, wheeled himself closer again. Taking up the syringe, Izumi drew back, her face forcibly set into an expression of neutrality. Zhou dropped back to join her, to allow Ed more room.

Al's entire body trembled with some unknown exertion. His eyes were fixed and staring, and through clenched teeth small moans escaped. Gingerly, Ed rested his flesh hand on top of the blankets.

Immediately Al's head jerked to face him. The tension in his facial muscles seemed to redouble, and then relax. Slowly, Ed brought his hand up and rested it on his brother's bloody head. Al didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry, Al," Ed said in a choked voice, recognizing his younger brother's presence in his gentle eyes. "I hurt your head."

Al smiled a little and shook his head, wincing. "No – I hurt it. It was too hard…to fight them off…"

Izumi and the doctor exchanged glances. It was the first time they had seen Al in full command of his body since his first recognition of Ed, nearly a week prior. Neither moved, afraid to break the spell.

At a loss for words, Ed submitted himself to the overwhelming sensation of gazing into his brother's eyes, animated by his spirit, for the first time in so many years. Though Al's smile was tired, he too seemed to be experiencing the same joy. "It feels good…"

Ed laughed, feeling tears rising to his eyes. "To have your body back?"

"Your hand on my head."

His chest swelled alarmingly; a joy so intense it was indistinguishable from grief nearly paralyzed him. He was unable to speak for a minute. Then, gently, moving his fingers a little: "I cut your hair."

"I know. I was watching – quietly – or they'd come." Fear flickered in Al's eyes. "I don't know if I can fight them and win."

Ed shook his head, unwilling to hear. "Don't say that. Of course you will."

"If they win, Nii-san, please – " Al struggled to produce the words "– please use this body and bring Father back."

"No." The sensation (already growing more familiar) of losing Al was coming back. "No. I swear to you, Al, I will not."

"Please." Al choked on his own words and began to writhe. "Nii-san!"

Zhou snapped into motion. Even as Ed protested "_Wait!_" through the blur of his tears, the doctor had administered the sedative. The writhing calmed. Al kept his eyes fixed on Ed as he slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

It was too much like watching him die.

The doctor moved briskly. "I'm sorry, Edward, but we can't risk another episode like that one."

Ed sat silently, barely watching as Izumi and Zhou cleaned up the rest of the blood as best they could and finished attending to the IVs and machines. He was startled out of his reverie when Izumi lightly tugged on the hunk of dark blond hair clenched in his metal hand. Slowly he unclenched his hand and let it fall.

***

Both Ed and Izumi were silent as she, alone, managed to drag his wheelchair back up the flight of stairs. Ed winced as the chair jarred his healing leg. When they reached the top of the stairs, both were startled by an exclamation from further down the hallway:

"Ed!"

Winry was at his side in what seemed like an instant, hugging him fiercely. Her arms around him felt good; he felt human. Simultaneously, however, guilt descended upon him, joining with the weight of the worry he felt for his brother. What right did he have to rejoice? His brother's life was not secure. He would bear the responsibility alone, as he had before.

"I'm so glad you're alright." Drawing back a little, Winry saw the expression on Ed's face and paused. "How is Al?"

"Haven't you seen him?"

Winry glanced at Izumi. "Not since…we got him to bed. Doctor Zhou didn't think it would be good for him to get excited." She looked back to Ed, one hand still resting on his shoulder. "But I knew that he would let you see him. The transmutation worked, didn't it?"

Ed closed his eyes, refusing to answer. "I'm tired." Faintly he was aware of Izumi and Winry taking him back to the room, putting him to bed.

While he slept, he dreamed.

In his dreams, the armored Al spoke to him, his voice echoing hollowly inside the cave in which Ed had imprisoned him:

"_I want to touch you again. It's strange. We're this close, but things like the sensation of touching you, the warmth of your body: I can't remember them."_

All the nights Al had spent sleepless by his side. While he had rested, for Al there had been no rest. Guilt rose within him for sleeping now, permeating even into his dreams. He awoke in a cold sweat.

It was late at night, and the small house was silent. As quietly as he could, and using the crutch which someone (probably the doctor) had set thoughtfully nearby, Ed limped over to the window and looked out. The landscape was frozen and cold, and in the distance the weird light of the Gate, like an infernal aurora borealis, shone darkly. The spectre of his brother's armored face rose up before him and his gut clenched and twisted.

As quietly as possible he made his way down the stairs, cringing at the slightest sounds. At the door to Al's room, he clapped and transmuted the locks open, and then halted for a good twenty seconds, holding his breath, but no sounds came from without or within. Finally he eased his way inside, nudging the door closed behind him.

A small lamp bathed the room in an eerie glow. Al appeared to be resting peacefully, and Ed resumed his position in the chair at the head of the bed, his eyes unable to leave his brother's body. It was hard to believe that within this peacefully sleeping body seethed a monstrous horde of shattered pieces of souls damned to the Gate.

Time passed; Ed was unsure of exactly how much. In his mind's eye, the older alchemist saw again the light and heat from the transmutation, Al's armor body seeming to liquefy; he saw himself standing before the stone doors of the Gate, their crumbing, intricate carvings eluding him. A dark, almost pleasurable sense of nostalgia swept over him.

He remembered cooling swollen wounds on Al's metal 'skin'; warming the armor with alchemy on cold nights and curling close to absorb the heat: always the unreadable red glow of the eyes, the familiar voice saying, _"I'm glad this body of mine can be of use to you, brother."_ He remembered the occasional questions and tests – brushing a finger over Al's shoulder: "_Can you feel that?" "No." _Hitting open-handed, a little harder, still gently._ "That?" "A little. I can feel the pressure; like the time you fell asleep in my lap. I couldn't feel the shape of your body, just your weight." _

In his (likely drug-induced) sleep, Al began first to twitch, and then slowly to twist, moaning close-lipped.

_No._ Ed clenched his teeth and bowed his head, willing it to stop; he could feel, physically, the pain of the struggle in his younger brother. It did not stop. Instead Al, tossing his head back and forth on the pillow, began to bite into his lower lip, drawing blood.

"Stop." Unable to think straight, overwhelmed by the horror of the situation, the alchemist did the only thing he could think of – he stuck his flesh hand into his brother's mouth, prying his teeth from his lip and settling his fingers as a guard between them.

Al bit. Ed resisted the impulse to yowl in pain, and instead firmly grasped his brother's shoulder with his automail hand. "Al! Can you hear me? Al!"

As before, Al's body seemed to tense, and then relax. His eyes opened and rolled around a bit before they came to rest on his older brother. The teeth which had dug deep into Ed's fingers relaxed somewhat, and Al grimaced as he tasted his older brother's blood. Ed tried to soothe him, pulling himself as close as the chair allowed, resting his upper body in the bed next to him and repeating,

"It's okay. I'm fine. Don't worry."

Al swallowed audibly. "Sin…"

"What?"

"The sin of my father is upon me. The blood of my mother is on my hands. Die. Die. I want to die." Al's voice was at once mellifluous and hoarse, full-throated and wispy. "Go back – the Gate – "

"No. I won't let you – "

Al's face twisted in a bizarre parody of laughter, flecks of foam rising to his lips. "Ha! Ha! YOU WILL DO WHAT? _Nii-san_?" The last words mocking, a curse. "It's too late for your little brother. We've seen into his soul. He is ours." With each sentence, the pitch and timbre of Al's voice changed. "Did you think you'd saved him? Foolish children!"

"Al, please…" Ed felt tears rising to his eyes, bile to his throat. "Al!"

_I'm glad this body can be useful to you._

_I can feel your shape, but not your weight._

Desperate, impulsive, Ed lunged himself forward, on top of his brother. He held the full weight of his body on his palms so as not to injure Al further. Al's eyes met his: fierce, wild, unrecognizable.

Kissing him, Ed tasted his own blood. It seemed that the bitterness, the tension of all the years was confined inside of that taste. From the moment he had taken his younger brother's body from him, he had entangled himself in taboo, drank so deeply of desecration that this, now, only seemed fitting, only felt right. He felt a thick joy rise through his remaining limbs. If it was for this that he had exchanged pieces of his body – now, seemingly with permanence – then he could accept, wholly, the consequences.

Then the kiss was timidly returned, and his spectral fantasy collapsed.

He pulled back. His arms trembled from supporting his weight over Al as their eyes met again and he realized, startled, that it was _Al_. The eyes confused, a little frightened, but clouded with fondness and recognition and – something else. Ed swallowed hard. His gentle, wise little brother. He hadn't acted in pure desperation to exorcise a demon; _he_ himself was the demon. Nothing he could blame his father for, or attribute to his mother's death: his own sin. The desire to possess what he ought never to have touched.

"I'm sorry," he forced out, and began to struggle to remove his body from his brother's. "Al, I – "

Al shook his head. "Nii-san." The way he moved his body, arching upward, his eyes pleading, seemed to say, _Don't leave._

He didn't leave. He undid the bonds, awkwardly, and they lay together. Though Al seemed exhausted, and disoriented, from time to time, there was no sign of his previous madness.

Neither of them took notice the eyes at the door, which had been watching for some time.


End file.
